For once, he had no joke ready.
Anya looked from the dog to Samuel.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Samuel ran a hand once over the dog’s head.
The Malinois leaned into it like he had been holding himself upright for weeks and had finally been given permission to rest.
“Just a farmer now,” Samuel said.
Anya shook her head.
“No,” she said. “That is a military working dog.”
Samuel’s face changed at the word military.
Not much.
Just enough.
“Something like that,” he said.
Anya crouched near the dog only after Samuel nodded.
Inside the left ear, half hidden by dirt, she saw the tattoo.
CX117B.
She wrote it down with hands that did not feel fully steady.
Samuel saw the number and went quiet.
“Kestrel was not a pet name,” Anya said.
“No,” Samuel said.
His eyes stayed on the dog.
“It was a call sign.”
